Enter COMUS. Comus. Can any mortal mixture of earth's mould Breathe such divine enchanting ravishment? Sure something holy lodges in that breast, How sweetly did they float upon the wings Culling their potent herbs and baleful drugs; And chid her barking waves into attention, I never heard till now. I'll speak to her, Dwell'st here with Pan, or Sylvan; by blest song Forbidding every bleak unkindly, fog To touch the prosperous growth of this tall wood. Lady. Nay, gentle shepherd, ill is lost that praise, That is address'd to unattending ears: Not any boast of skill, but extreme shift How to regain my sever'd company, Compell'd me to awake the courteous Echo To give me answer from her mossy couch. Comus. What chance, good Lady, hath bereft you thus ? Lady. Dim darkness, and his leafy labyrinth. Comus. Could that divide you from near ushering guides? Lady. They left me weary on a grassy turf. Lady. To seek i' the valley some cool friendly spring. Comus. And left your fair side all unguarded, Lady. They were but twain, and purpos'd quick return. Comus. Perhaps forestalling night prevented them. Lady. How easy my misfortune is to hit! Comus. Imports their loss, beside the present need? Lady. No less than if I should my Brothers lose. Comus. Were they of manly prime, or youthful bloom? Lady. As smooth as Hebe's their unrazor'd lips. Comus. Two such I saw, what time the labour'd ox In his loose traces from the furrow came, Of some gay creatures of the element, That in the colours of the rainbow live, And play i' the plighted clouds. I was aw-struck, To help you find them. Lady. Gentle Villager, What readiest way would bring me to the place? Comus. Due west it rises from this shrubby point. Lady. To find out that, good Shepherd, I suppose In such a scant allowance of star-light, Would overtask the best land pilot's art, Without the sure guess of well-practis'd feet. Comus. I know each lane, and every alley green, Dingle, or bushy dell of this wild wood, VOL. IV. The express resemblance of the Gods, is chang'd Not once perceive their foul disfigurement, I shoot from heaven, to give him safe convoy, These my sky-robes spun out of Iris' woof, Who with his soft pipe, and smooth-dittied song, COMUS enters with a charming-rod in one hand his glass in the other; with him a rout of monsters, headed like sundry sorts of wild beasts, but otherwise like men and women, their apparel glistering; they come in making a riotous and unruly noise, with torches in their hands. Comus. The star, that bids the shepherd fold, Now the top of heaven doth hold; And the gilded car of day His glowing axle doth allay And the slope sun his upward beam Of his chamber in the East. Mean while welcome Joy, and Feast, Braid your locks with rosy twine, And Advice with scrupulous head, We, that are of purer fire, Imitate the starry quire, |